


Smoke Screen

by emblem_oracle



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Another Grif gets injured AU, Attempt at Humor, Cussing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Not serious at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblem_oracle/pseuds/emblem_oracle
Summary: Wherein Grif gets injured and Simmons comes to help. Except, there is more bickering going on than actual rescuing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RiaTheDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/gifts).



> This is garbage, I'm garbage... What an entrance into writing for these two. 
> 
> For RiatheDreamer because she is garbage too. Grimmons garbage. Hope anyone reading this enjoys!

There was a mighty bang, rocks hurtled through the air and then dirt suddenly became clouds. Smoke. The dark cloud filled his lungs, flooding into his mask. He felt his back hit the ground, whatever oxygen remaining in his lungs knocked clean.

"Well… shit," Grif grumbled through the ringing in his ears, forcing himself to breathe and quickly regretting it.

Where was he? Upside down? With the world spinning like this, he could be. He groaned, coughed and patted the ground to right himself. His mask began to whir, signalling the filtration of the dirtied air into something cleaner.

Grif was not a stranger to explosions. Or getting kicked, run over, shot at… And experience helped a lot in the aftermath. Getting bruised was all in a day's work as part of Red Team.

People wondered why he was lazy.

Now, what was going on?

Oh, right. The mission to recover some cargo. Even the mission sounded unattractive. Grif noted that they should add these details to the job description.

"Grif!" a voice shouted over the settling dust, the growing sounds of combat.

 _Hayy, at least it's not Sarge._ He waved with his arm, groaning a, "Here!"

Maroon amour emerged through the murk, scanning the floors for orange armour. Gunshots rang through the air. Grif waved his arm again and Simmons seemed to stiffen, breaking into a run. Odd.

"Grif? You alright?!" He skidded to the ground, dust cloud rising as he rested his hands on Grif's chest. With armour in the way, Grif could barely feel the pressure.

"No," Grif said. Tiredness was beginning to set into his bones now that his heart was slowing. He rested his head against the floor with a small bump.

Simmons fixed him a look, head tilting slightly to the side. Grif could imagine slightly narrowed eyes. "Yeah, you're fine."

Gunshots rang closer, loud enough that Grif couldn't stop himself from blinking with every shot. The dust was finally beginning to settle from the grenade, the last of the smoke filtered from his mask. He smiled. "Aww! Were you worried?"

"Shut it, idiot. We have to move unless getting shot is on the agenda."

After being caught in an explosion, receiving a bullet to the back most certainly _was not_ on the agenda.

This day truly sucked. This job truly sucked.

Simmons moved to his head and slid his arms under his pits. As he moved to sit him up, a stabbing pain shot up his side. "STOP, STOP!"

"WHAT?!"

"Leg! Broken! Or maybe obliterated!"

"It better not be fucking obliterated, that's my leg!"

"That's what you are concerned about?" Grif shot him a glare which he knew went unseen. "That your old leg could be gone; not that I could be three-limbed!"

"You are already three-limbed! That's MY LEG. You really need to take better care of your--my--body."

More gun shots, a distant sound of a grenade. Grif raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright! You can yell at me later! But I don't want to be a human target and, unless you want more of your precious organs damaged, you better move me."

Simmons placed his hands on his hips, studying him with what could only be cynicism. "Like you will take care of my organs after this. You are lazy, have never eaten a healthy meal in your life and you're a smoker! My organs might even be in better condition if I leave you get shot."

"Don't be an asshole! Just move me, already!"

With a resigned sigh, Simmons placed his arms under Grif's pits again. Lifting Grif's torso off the ground, Grif bit down his pain as Simmons rose from the ground.

"You good?"

 _"Fantastic!"_ Grif hissed out.

"I don't need your sass, Grif," Simmons tightened his grip, yanking the soldier up with a huff.

"Don't ask stupid questions, then."

"I will leave you here, you _know I will."_

There was another explosion, another blast of dirt. It was closer now. Grif's retort died on his tongue. Simmons snapped his head from the dust cloud and grasped Grif's wrist, wrapping it around his neck.

"You know I hate it when you touch me with your robot arm, Simmons," Grif groused as he adjusted to being stood. His leg ached like a bitch.

"If you took care of your stuff better, I wouldn't have a robot arm," Simmons' reply was lightning fast.

"Not again!" Grif sighed which quickly turned into a grunt as the maroon soldier started to move. "You say that like I made you give them up"

Simmons shifted Grif's weight against him, granting himself better footing. "Well, you kind of did. You were _dying._ If I didn't give them up, you'd not be here to complain right now."

Grif paused, mouth thinning behind his mask. He knew that and he was grateful, of course, but something about it being said aloud made him pause and his tongue still. Whether Simmons regretted his actions then was a question he had always— God, was he going into shock? He stamped his foot to dismiss the train of thought but regretted it when fresh pain shot up his leg.

"Idiot! What did you do that for?!"

"Uhh… trying to stay away from the light?" Grif scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"The light? What?"

"Just keep walking!"

Simmons looked away, concentrating on his path. Now that the adrenaline was easing out of his body, his eyes felt strangely heavy. He allowed his head to fall forward, resting his chin against his chest.The maroon soldier stumbled and pain reverberated around Grif's body. "Grif? You are not blacking out, are you?"

"Of course not," the orange soldier muttered, ignoring the gasp as Simmons staggered against his weight and the world became oddly fuzzy.

"Grif! Stay awake!"

"…Shut up, mom!"

Simmons suddenly buckled and Grif's arm fell from his neck, his face meeting the ground with an almighty crack. A new buzzing resounded in his ears and he sighed against the floor.

His final thought before he blacked out was, ' _Simmons fucking dropped me!'_

* * *

 

"I can't believe you fucking dropped me!" Grif scowled down at his bandaged leg, thankfully not obliterated. He was more than slightly relieved about that. Simmons would never let him live it down if he'd lost it. Home safe in their base, the orange soldier was sentenced to two weeks bed-rest to recuperate which was a-okay with him! No missions, bruises or Sarge for two whole weeks! Perhaps the only good thing to ever come out of getting injured were the extra days off. 

Simmons crossed his arms, glaring right back at him. "I dragged your ass _out of a war zone._ I saved your life! _Again!"_

"Must be pretty upset about that achievement being soured… you know, because _you dropped me on my face."_

"It was an accident, Asshole!"

"Dick!"

"Oh hah hah, very funny."

Sarge poked his head around the door, eyes narrowed in a way which cut short their arguing. "Will you boys shut it? Simmons! I told you, you should have left him!"

"Regretting it now, sir."

Grif scowled harder. "That's not very nice."

"You deserve it."

Simmons sat hard into his chair. There was a brief silence and Grif groaned inwardly at the prospect of seeming grateful. But Simmons had saved him. He had to give credit where it was due. Sighing loud enough to catch the maroon shoulder's attention, he bowed his head. "As thanks for saving me, I promise I will take better care of your assets."

"DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT!"

Tucker, who just happened to be walking through the halls, pricked up his ears and smiled. "They as so married."

Fin


End file.
